The decision
by XellyCyee
Summary: Short story for school. Jed has 3 of his troops left. The all have an alien inside them. Should he let them suffer or should he end it for them?


How did I ever get myself into this mess? The question echoed in my head as I cautiously crept across the hallway, dark, damp and cold. The only light we had was from the outside, beams of white light dancing on the steel floors through gaping holes in the ceiling. The clouds randomly passed over the dying sun, leaving us in partial light and partial shadow and it was the shadow that we most feared.  
  
There are only four of us left, Ace, Vaz, Riley and myself, Lieutenant Commander Jed McLaren, a quartet of walking dead. We were all infected - impregnated you could say - by the aliens. Their spider-like forms clasped our faces tightly and insert an egg into our chest cavity down our weak throats while we struggled for air, struggled for control. We may seem to be alright now, but the inevitable will come - death, in one form or the other. The beasts growing inside us will either burst out of our rib cages, killing us instantly in a wave of incredible pain or we will kill ourselves, in order to keep the rest of humanity safe and to save ourselves from out fate. It doesn't really matter what happens, our fate has been chosen for us and there is nothing left to do but to complete our mission: destroy them. We edged closer and closer toward their main nest, where the queen of all aliens and our fears lay. The once dull steel walls had now become a strange fleshy web of blood and muscle, all intertwined with cocooned corpses or possibly more incubators like ourselves. The further we got into their labyrinth, the warmer it got, the air getting heavier and making it harder to breathe. Sweat gathered in the palms of our hands as we held our weapons close, fingers on the trigger, ready to burn their insectoid bodies to a crisp. Suddenly, we heard an empty clank behind us. We turned swiftly, our flamethrowers readied for the kill but instead we found Riley, kneeling on the floor, breathing hard. He dropped his gun and fell to the floor, clutching his chest as if he were having cardiac arrest. The big man was shaking violently, like a seizure but with consciousness, his eyes bloodshot and teeth grinding. "Jed, you gotta do it." Ace said sympathetically. All I could do was stare at my best friend lying on the ground, loosing control of his body in a pool of crimson blood. "Jed, please! Shoot him before it comes out!" pleaded Vaz, tears welling in her eyes. My colleagues watched me; waiting for a reaction to our dying friend, back now arched as the monster tries to eat its way out of his rib cage. I took out the pistol from its holster on the side of my leg and held it in my hand. Riley reached out to me with a bloody hand. He wheezed the words 'Help me' as more blood dribbled from his mouth. I swallowed hard. This was the moment of decision. "Bloody hell Jed! If you can't do it, I will!" Ace shouted in my face, desperately trying to take to gun from me. I shook him off and pointed my gun at Riley forehead. He was my best friend and this was the best thing to do. He would do it for me if I were in his position and I, being the leader of this group had to make the choice. Killing him would save him and that's all I wanted to do. Bang. The sound of the gunshot echoed down the industrial halls as smoke rose from the barrel of the pistol. Hot tears burned down my dirt-covered face. I dropped the gun and looked at Riley, his expression was unusual but welcoming. The blonde man grinned a smile that one would only see if he were truly happy as he heaved his last breathe. The beast inside him also stopped its desperate attempt to escape. It seems it was still connected to Riley's body system and when he died, so did it. Both he and the monster were in deep sleep; one they will never wake from, on a bed of coagulated blood and steel flooring. The hallway was eerily silent for the first time since I'd been there. Ace nudged me with the nozzle of his flamethrower. "We'd better get going. They'll be after us soon." After a long pause, I replied, "Yeah. You're right. We'll get those bastards back."  
  
In the end we did get them back. That was two days ago. I survived. My friends didn't. I shot them. Now I wonder if it was the right thing to do. The one inside of me has yet to surface. I'm risking contamination of the human race. My trip home will be eventful, no matter the result. 


End file.
